


Pride and Pokémon

by glitterfox19



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Pokemon Journey, hey what if cursed child actually took place in the pokemon universe, i think that's what i was thinking when i wrote this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29213199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterfox19/pseuds/glitterfox19
Summary: Albus wants to take on the challenge to win against all eight Gym Leaders and prove himself as better than his dad once and for all. When he starts his journey, he thinks there’s only eight major battles waiting for him. He couldn’t have made a bigger miscalculation. He had neglected the possibility of needing to go up against the resurgence of a very dangerous gang, a literal godly being, his own confusing and developing feelings for his best friend, and Rose Granger-Weasley, who might be the scariest boss battle of all.
Relationships: Albus Severus Potter & Rose Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy & Rose Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	1. The Obligatory Part Where the Gang Gets Introduced (Both the Literal Gang and the Friendship One)

_Dear Diary,_

_Ugh, that opening is so cliché. Whatever, not like I’m gonna use this much. My name is Albus Severus Potter. Yes, I know my name sucks. My dad says that it’s significant, but I really think he found the world’s worst baby name generator, got “Albus Severus,” and went, “Well, that sucks.” And stuck with it! I know he’s the best Pokémon trainer in documented history, but come on, man! Don’t saddle your middle child with a terrible name. It means “Serious White Man.” Okay, it doesn’t exactly, but I think my interpretation helps illustrate its general sucky-ness, so there._

_I’ve gotten sidetracked. It’s my eleventh birthday today. I was supposed to get my starter Pokémon, but instead, my mother offered me a bracing smile and this journal. I’m not sure why she thought that was an alright substitute. But there’s (allegedly) “Nothing I can do to change that.” I have to wait until I’m sixteen._

_My sincerest apologies to this diary, but I don’t think I’ll be using you. It feels a bit strange, writing down my life like this. So, I hope you don’t mind getting dusty? Maybe I’ll come back to this page to reminisce about my childhood. How embarrassing of my future self._

_Later, loser.  
Albus Severus Potter._

Albus snapped the cover of the journal shut. Leaning back on his wooden chair, he stuffed away the childish urge to chuck it at the wall. It was a nice journal, bound with leather, and it even came with a red ribbon that served as a bookmark; it would be a shame to ruin it in a pathetic display of rage. How privileged was he, anyway? He was lucky to even have the option to get a Pokémon on his eleventh birthday. His father had drilled that into him about a million times.

He was this close to responding with, “I didn’t ask to be lucky,” but his dad would probably ground him for a week and his mom would be disappointed in him. And that would be awful. So he grit his teeth and got over it. At least, he got over it publicly. 

“Albus! Dinner’s ready!” He sighed and put his hands on his desk to push himself to his feet. His chair made a scraping sound against the wooden floor. Hopefully his mom wouldn’t notice that.

His birthday had been nice so far. His sister had woken him up at seven in the morning, screaming “Happy Birthday!” at the top of her lungs. Her present to him had been a bundle of sticks with a flashy, glittery headband tying them together. She had also handed him a card. At nine years old, Lily Luna was a fireball of energy, as well as the dictator of the Potter family. She had their dad wrapped around her finger. Forget patriarchs. They had a little-sister-arch. And she was a volatile leader. 

James had nodded at him across the breakfast table. “You’re a tween now. Cool.” He’d then returned to wolfing down his cereal. He kept his mouth closed. A terrific birthday present, in Albus’ mind. James’ silence should be treasured.

His dad made him chocolate chip pancakes with cut-up strawberries and sausage on the side. He put a birthday candle for Albus to blow out. Seconds later, Lily Luna began monologuing a section from an original play she’d apparently made up with her friends. It featured a princess in a tower who had never seen a Pokémon before. No prince could rescue her, but a friendly knight had gotten his pet Steelix to stand next to her window to offer her an escape route. Honestly, it was pretty creative.

He met up with his cousin, Rose, after lunch. She bragged about how she was fourteen days older than he was and made jokes about how when she was his age, she didn’t know the alphabet yet. Or along those lines, anyway. Albus responded by sticking his tongue out at her and saying she had cooties. She primly informed him that cooties weren’t real. After their bickering settled down, they started a game of tag with a few other neighborhood kids.

“What do you want your first Pokémon to be? I want a Charmander, of course. Or a Gible, but Charmander is actually offered as a starter. Plus, they’re cute,” Rose asked when they’d finally called off the game and returned to her backyard to lounge around before dinnertime. Albus raised his head weakly. The sky was perfectly blue, giving a perfect view of Nero City’s skyscrapers on the horizon.

Albus shrugged. “I don’t know. I assumed my parents would pick for me. Something strong. You know. Useful, loyal. I don’t really care.” 

Rose sat up and flipped a lock of her thick, curly hair out of her face so she could fix him with one of her looks. Her expression screamed ‘unimpressed and disappointed.’ It made Albus shudder, because she looked so much like her mom, and whenever her mom made that face, it meant business. “Seriously? You don’t care about one of the most important decisions of your life?”

Not knowing what else to say, he shrugged again. “Well, I mean, it would be weird to go to the local Professor for my first Pokémon when my dad is, well. My dad.” He clamped his mouth shut. Talking about his feelings towards his dad always felt awkward. Even though Rose was his best friend, she was his family, too, and she might blab to her mom, who might tell his dad, and then his dad would get frustrated with him… So he tried not to talk about it. "I guess I just thought he'd pick for me."

Rose rolled her eyes. “We get it, your dad saved the world. Big whoop. Some of us have to get a lab Pokémon.” She mimed tears before grinning. “I can make sure I get the best one. After all, I have connections!”

While Albus felt like his mouth was filled with glue whenever he spoke about his parents, Rose never hesitated to remind everyone about her parents. Hermione Granger, one of the most brilliant trainers of her age, helped to almost single-handedly (she had two good friends helping her, after all) take down an underground criminal organization as a teenager, now a famous Pokémon Professor who helped countless kids start their journeys into the Pokémon world. She’d even started a nonprofit to ensure everyone had access to a Pokémon in order to lessen disparity. Ron Weasley, renowned Gym Leader, master of puzzles and their design, a key player in dismantling aforementioned underground criminal organization. If his dad wasn’t Harry fucking Potter, Albus would feel very, very insecure. As it stood, he only felt slightly insecure, and it had nothing to do with heritage. Well, maybe a little bit. It was complicated.

“Fine,” Rose said. She always got antsy when there was a silence lasting longer than thirty seconds. “You can have any Pokémon you want. Which one do you want?”

This was a tough question. Albus moved from a hunched-over sitting position to lying flat on his stomach, hands cushioning his chin. The grass tickled his nose. “You tell me, first. I’ll think about it. I have a feeling you already know your answer.”

Rose shoved him with a hand. He was right, though, because she started talking right after. “Okay, from a coolness standpoint, Rayquaza. Obviously. It rules over two other Legendaries of that region already. And Dragon types are really strong. But if I want to be the next Champion, I have to think strategically. What Pokémon would allow me to hypothetically conquer the Elite Four? Well, Arceus, of course. Type disadvantages would disappear as long as I had access to all the Plates. Plus, I would be friends with the literal God of all Pokémon, which is pretty cool.” 

Albus pressed his cheek to the grass. “Of course you have a well thought-out answer.”

She puffed out her chest. “Are you surprised?”

“No. Just impressed.” He picked a blade, twirling it between his fingers. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know enough Pokémon to pick one. Probably a super powerful, super rare one.”

“Booooooring.” Rose didn’t press him any further, at least. 

They lounged in silence for a stretch. Albus ripped at grass and threw it at his cousin. Rose drew patterns in the sky and threw the grass right back at him. 

“Are you nervous about school starting?” he ventured. The local middle school had to shut down because there weren’t enough kids enrolled, so his parents were switching him to a private school in the city. Rose was his only close friend, and she was coming too, so it would be fine. Hopefully.

Rose blew some of the hair out of her face. “Not really. I mean, we’re going to have our pick of the lot, won’t we? With our last names, and all. Everyone will want to be our friend. We just have to decide.” 

“Right.” His stomach twisted. His last name felt like a curse sometimes, with all the attention that came with it. Just last week, someone followed him into the local bike shop, asking him questions about his dad. Thankfully, some employee had escorted the weirdo out. Stuff like that was constantly happening. It wasn’t fair. He was an ordinary eleven year old. Just because his dad was Harry Potter didn’t mean he was important, or interesting, or worthy of paparazzi. 

“Why, are you?”

“No,” he lied, bringing his gaze back to the impossibly green grass. Uncle Ron must have had one of his Pokémon help with watering recently. There was no way that their backyard would look so nice without extra help.

“Good. I’m kinda excited for summer to be over, to be honest. I’m getting terribly bored with nothing to do. Thank goodness school starts in a week.” Albus rolled his eyes. 

“You’re a nerd.”

“I’m proud of it!” She crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air. Albus rolled his eyes again. She deserved it.

They sat in Rose’s backyard chatting until her dad called her in for dinner. Albus rode his bike home. The whole way back, he thought about what his new school would be like. Would kids be extra nice to him because of his family? What about the professors? Would any of the other kids have Pokémon yet?

It was hard to stomach dinner with the way his stomach was twisting about like a snake trying to shed its skin. He pushed away his plate after only a few bites, unable to force more food down. His parents had looked at each other with pinched mouths and wide eyes, and he’d pretended not to notice when he fled upstairs to his room.

*

Albus was so focused on remembering his locker number and code that he didn’t notice the other student walking in his direction until they’d already collided and landed in a heap on the ground. He felt his cheeks heat up. He could practically hear Rose whispering in his ear, ‘Way to go, Albus. Bringing pride to the family name!’

The other boy was surrounded by heavy-looking textbooks. He seemed a bit dazed, his dark brown eyes unfocused and staring at the ceiling. Albus struggled to a standing position first, so he offered a hand and stayed silent. What would he say, anyway?

“Sorry, sorry!” the other boy squeaked, grabbing Albus’ hand readily. His white-blond hair was sticking up in tufts. He was actually a bit taller than Albus. That was surprising, considering how small he seemed to be when he was lying on the floor. “I really shouldn’t read while walking, but you know how Professor McGonagall gets about making sure you do your homework on time, and I got distracted last night by…” He stopped talking. “I don’t recognize you. Are you new? You must be new, that’s why you didn’t run away.” The last part was spoken quietly, but Albus heard. Perhaps he wasn’t meant to. Should he comment on it? No, best not to. He understood what it was like, saying things that he shouldn’t, wondering if anyone heard them. 

“Yeah, I’m new. I’m Albus Severus Potter.” 

The boy smiled. “Hi Scorpius!” He shook his head, a faint blush flaring up on his pale cheeks. “No, I’m Scorpius. You’re Albus. Sorry, sometimes my brain moves faster than my mouth.”

“That’s a good problem to have, isn’t it? It means you’re smart.”

The other boy blinked. “No one’s ever put it like that before.”

“ALBUS!” Albus flinched at the sound of Rose’s shout. She strode towards them at a deliberately slow pace. When she reached him, she grabbed onto his elbow, pinching him with her long nails. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. And you are…” She raised an eyebrow, her mouth remaining in a hard, flat line.

“Scorpius.” Scorpius looked down at his feet. His smile evaporated.

“Malfoy, isn’t it?” Rose’s voice was dripping with disdain. 

Scorpius’ shoulders slumped forward. “I know what it sounds like, but my parents aren’t involved in the Syndicate. We haven’t been for years. My dad renounced all ties the moment he was legally emancipated from his parents.” Albus felt a bit lost. He knew about the Syndicate - it was the criminal organization that nearly killed his parents. But he didn’t know anything about the people who were involved in it. And he didn’t know what legal emancipation was or what it had to do with anything. What he did know was that Scorpius didn’t look capable of being a part of some fancy, dangerous criminal organization like that.

Rose let out a little tut before yanking on Albus’ arm. “Let’s get going, Albus.”

“No.” His voice surprised him. And Rose. And Scorpius, evidently, judging from the way the other boy’s head snapped up. “I’m going to stick with Scorpius.” He felt his face heat up as he spoke. But his heart started pumping faster, filling him with adrenaline. He never said no to Rose. It was time for a change.

Her face went through a series of emotions before settling on a blank expression. Her eyebrow twitched as she fought to maintain composure. “When you come to your senses, you know where to find me.” She stalked off, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 

Albus let out a breath that he didn’t even know was stuck in his throat. Scorpius looked at him. He looked a bit like a spooked Deerling, all leggy and awkward and terrified. They locked eyes. Albus offered his best smile. 

“Oh! My books.” Scorpius scrambled to grab his books off of the floor and shove them into his backpack. Albus grabbed one title, trying to be helpful, before getting distracted by the gold-leaf pages and the ornate detail on the spine. It looked old, and important, and well-loved. It was about as thick as his wrist. Scorpius’ backpack must weigh a million pounds.

When Albus passed the book, their fingers met for a moment. Scorpius’ fingers were long and slender and warm. He wondered how his fingers felt. If Scorpius even noticed them, that is. How creepy is that, thinking about the hands of some random kid at school? He drew his hand back quickly.

“What’s your first class? I have History with McGonagall, she’s ancient but she’s brilliant. She taught my dad! Which is crazy, because that was years ago. You’re my year, aren’t you? I thought you were, since these are our lockers. Do you need help getting your things? I don’t mind. You stuck your neck out for me, so I think I ought to make it up to you.” Albus hid a smile. The other boy gestured haphazardly as he spoke, his knuckles rapping against the walls or slapping against his own thigh. It was endearing. 

“Rose needs to be knocked down a peg sometimes. Don’t worry, she’ll warm up to you.” Scorpius’ mouth gaped open. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head slowly.

“She won’t, but that’s okay. Once people hear my last name, they usually run screaming in the opposite direction.” He removed his hands from his pockets to fiddle with a hangnail. Perpetual motion, Albus noted.

“She will,” Albus persisted. Scorpius nodded, his eyes still darting everywhere except to meet Albus’ own. “I warmed up to you, didn’t I?” 

“You’ve warmed up to me? You’ve only known me for about five-ish minutes. You can’t possibly have a good sense of my personality. I’d say you’re lukewarm to me at best. Room temperature, maybe.” Albus didn’t bother to hide his smile anymore. He bumped his shoulders against Scorpius’.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to stick around so I can properly judge your character.”

The next day, they sat next to each other in History. And the day after that. And the day after that. Scorpius was right about McGonagall; she had the old-people glasses on a chain and silvery-brown hair, but she could sniff out a class clown in half a millisecond and managed to make ancient Rome actually sound interesting. 

A week later, a few minutes before McGonagall started class, Rose sat down in the empty seat on Scorpius’ left. Scorpius straightened up as though someone had attached a rod to his spine. She didn’t say a word at all during class. When the minute hand hit 9:30, she swept her materials into her backpack and said, “I’m doing this because Albus has been my best friend since we were born. And also because if I’m going to be the Champion, I need to ace school with flying colors. And you seem to be a bit better at Math than I am.” Scorpius’ smile lit up his entire face.


	2. Albus Has A Ghastly Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol writing is hard

“Albus, this is a really terrible idea.” Albus carefully lifted a hand from his bike handlebars to make a dismissive waving motion in Scorpius’ general direction. He didn’t dare crane his neck to look back at his best friend--he’d done that while biking once and rode straight into a tree--so instead he focused on what was in front of his nose. The sun was just starting to set, casting long shadows from the trees that were hugging the road on either side.

“It can’t be that bad. What’s the worst thing that could happen?” He could practically feel Scorpius chewing the soft inside of his cheek, his mind churning with forking possibilities and decisions. He decided to play his trump card. “Aren’t you curious about what it’ll look like, though? Maybe you’ll make a discovery, or something.”

Scorpius let out an undignified snort. “Yeah, right. What sort of discoveries are going to be in an old farmhouse? Other than some moldy wood and graffiti.” 

“I heard it was built over two hundred years ago.” Albus offered. “No one’s made any changes to it since the last owners died… I don’t know, fifty years ago? I’m sure there’s antiques left over.”

There was the distinctive snapping sound of gears changing, and then Scorpius shot ahead of him. “I’ll see you there, Slowpoke!” 

“You know Munchlax is actually slower than Slowpoke,” Albus said, leaning forward over his handlebars in an effort to catch up. It was no use; Scorpius’ legs were far longer, giving him pedaling power that Albus could only dream of. He was waiting on a growth spurt like the one Scorpius got earlier that year. 

“I was the one who told you that!”

The asphalt road turned into dirt, forests turned into open fields. He could see Scorpius’ baby-blue helmet from a distance, his scrawny form hunched over his bike. He hadn’t adjusted his seat properly; his knees were tucked close to his chest so his feet would stay on the pedals.

About a half an hour later, his friend slowed to a stop in front of the crumbling front of a very, very old house. It was situated in the middle of what Albus assumed to be former farmland, now reclaimed by natural weeds and grasses. 

This is what they had come for: a two-story abandoned farmhouse. It was wooden, the planks ashy in color, though Albus wasn’t sure if that was the result of neglect. None of the windows had glass anymore; most were boarded up, except for one on the first floor that led to a porch that was in severe disrepair. The front door, which must have been white at one point and was now covered in a layer of grime, was a few feet away from its original doorframe. The roof was actually in relatively good shape, only missing shingles here and there. 

“Well!” Scorpius turned towards Albus, hands on his hips. “That’s cool. Let’s go home now.”

Albus didn’t respond. Instead, he put down his bike’s kickstand and walked over to the porch. There was a rotting wooden rocking chair that was laying on its side. Dandelions poked out between the slats of wood. He peered at the open window.

“Oh no,” Scorpius moaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Please don’t do what I think you’re about to do. I’m begging you.”

Albus vaulted through the window, ducking his head so he wouldn’t bang it against the rotten, wooden frame. His backpack snagged on what remained of the glass. Albus tugged it free and hiked it up on his shoulders. There wasn’t anything irreplaceable in there, but that didn’t mean he wanted to chance accidentally forgetting it in a bush somewhere. Not like that had ever happened before. 

“You did it. You did what I thought you were going to do. Am I gonna have to follow you? I should, shouldn’t I? So I can save you from yourself. Why are we friends again?” Scorpius started pacing. Albus tuned out his best friend’s anxious mutterings. He knew Scorpius would follow eventually. He always did.

The only light in the room was the daylight streaming in through the window. Moments later, a shadow obscured the only illuminated spot on the floor. Scorpius awkwardly, slowly, painstakingly climbed through the window, taking great care to not touch any of the glass. He then proceeded to sidle up next to Albus, hugging himself. “Well, whoop-de-doo. Please don’t make me walk up the stairs, I don’t trust them.”

Albus didn’t want to make a promise he couldn’t keep, so he investigated his surroundings instead of responding. There was rubble all over the cement floor, bits of wood and dust and general dirt and accumulation of whatever that tends to happen whenever a house gets abandoned. The window curtains had been shredded, but they remained, moving incrementally with the slight breeze. In another room, a dining table stood untouched, covered in years worth of dust, but somehow otherwise completely normal.

Scorpius trailed his fingers over the wood, his fingers leaving behind imprints where he wiped the dust away. “This looks… fancy. I wonder why they left.”

“Who knows? Maybe they were threatened. Maybe they died. Maybe their skeletons are still here.” Albus waggled his fingers at Scorpius, who batted at his hands, a frown forming on his face.

“Knock it off.” When Scorpius frowned like that, little wrinkles appeared in his nose that made him look a bit like a Buneary. He’d told Rose about it trying to make a joke one time. She’d looked at him askance and didn’t laugh. Albus had felt a rush of embarrassment so strong that he never brought it up again.

“Sorry.” Albus dropped his hands. Scorpius turned away, seemingly entranced by the woodwork or something else equally specific. Albus knew his best friend, after all.

The moment his hands returned to his pockets, the light on the floor faded. “Albus. I mean it. Stop messing with the lights,” Scorpius snapped. He was on his knees, his face almost touching the antique. Albus stiffened.

“Not me,” Albus whispered, his eyes going wide. Scorpius whipped around and scrambled to his feet, his face very, very pale. He moved backwards until he was back-to-back with Scorpius, his knees trembling. “I don’t know what did that.” 

If Scorpius wasn’t also terrified, he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose. He was wringing his hands furiously, twisting at the knuckles in a repetitive gesture. “Okay. Okay. Well, what was that, then? There’s not an eclipse happening today. Um, a Pokémon? Probably? I don’t know which one, but I think that makes the most sense.”

Some of the tension bled out of Albus’ shoulders. “Oh, a Pokémon. We can deal with that, you know a ton about them.” Scorpius didn’t instantly start jabbering away about fun facts, so Albus nudged him in the side with an elbow. “Right?”

“Well, yes. I do know a lot about Pokémon.”

“So?” Albus prompted. Desperation began clawing at the inside of his ribcage. Its claws were quite sharp. “What are we supposed to do?”

Scorpius was shaking. “Okay, well, according to my notes, we’re supposed to run away now.”

Albus sucked in a breath, scanning their surroundings even though he already knew the answer. “And our only exit is blocked off. Cool. Cool…” Albus trailed off into helpless laughter. “Well, fuck, huh?”

“Albus!” There was a scandalized edge to his voice.

“Are you seriously going to take issue with my language right now? I think we have bigger things to deal with.”

Scorpius seemed to be on the verge of taking the debate further when a little voice called out “Fuck!” Peals of laughter followed, gradually growing louder with every second.

“It speaks,” Scorpius said. Albus resisted the urge to say ‘I know’ in a snarky tone. “Okay, that narrows down the list immensely. Either it’s a bird Pokémon of some sort, which seems highly unlikely, or it’s a Ghost-type capable of illusions.”

“What should we do?”

“Wait for it to move, then jump out the window and bike as fast as we can?” Scorpius suggested. They were holding hands (when did that happen?), now both facing the window. Albus felt far steadier with his best friend by his side. Too bad Rose wasn’t there to help; she was working another shift at the city bike shop in order to save up some money. She would’ve gotten them out of there in no time. Actually, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. Albus would’ve been vetoed and they wouldn’t have spent their free time nearly getting devoured by a Pokémon.

“Hey! Ugly! Over here!” Albus cupped his mouth with his free hand.

“Albus!” Scorpius hissed, jabbing a bony elbow into his side. He fell silent when some of the light from the window returned. At the same time, a pair of huge, white eyes came into focus. Just below its enormous eyes were two fangs within a pink mouth, curved into a sinister smile. 

“Ugly!” The Pokémon repeated, sticking out its fat, pink tongue. It floated towards Albus, something glinting in its eyes. That’s when Albus realized it had no body. It was hovering several feet off of the floor, its gaseous body propelling it forward…somehow. He didn’t stop to ponder the specifics. Albus took off towards the window at a run, his body urging him to get out of there, sweat beading on his temples. It stayed close behind, its tongue getting closer and closer and…

It let out a surprised sound that petered out into a whimper. Albus whipped his head around, but he only saw Scorpius on his heels. He threw himself out of the window, flopping onto the porch outside. He scrambled to his feet and mounted his bike, stopping only to make sure Scorpius had made it out, too.

After fifteen minutes of biking at a brutal pace, he slowed to a stop, throwing his backpack to the ground and bending over to put his hands on his knees. He stood there for a while, hunched over, desperate to get his breath back. Albus felt Scorpius’ hand on his shoulder and he glanced up.

“I punched a Pokémon.” Scorpius wasn’t looking quite at him; his eyes, a bit frantic around the edges, were focused on a tree. He squeezed Albus’ shoulder but didn’t let go. He let out a wild-sounding laugh and threw his hands into the air. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal! I’m a criminal!”

“I’m sure there’s a clause about self-defense,” Albus offered, knowing that Scorpius already knew that. He decided to let his best friend have his moment. He leaned against a tree, watching Scorpius cackle and gesture at trees. Seemed like a fair response to nearly getting…who knows, poisoned, maybe? “Did you recognize that one?”

Scorpius looked over his shoulder, wrinkling his nose. “No. If only I had a Pokédex…” He let out a wistful sigh before returning to his bike and righting it.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You want one too, admit it. Everyone dreams about having one.” Albus twisted his mouth as though he’d just tasted a lemon. Scorpius either didn’t notice or ignored it. “Imagine having a National Pokédex. Think about all the Pokémon you’d learn about!” 

“I’m not getting a Pokédex,” Albus grumbled, kicking at an errant rock. It flipped over before falling in a ditch on the side of the road. “Those are only for the cream of the crop. I’m nothing like my dad.”

Scorpius’ head whipped around. He pinched his face together before shaking his head. “You’ve never trained a Pokémon. How would you know?”

Albus shrugged helplessly. “I’m… people have high expectations, y’know? My dad included. Everyone thinks I’m just like him, but I’m not. I don’t want to be just like him.” 

“You’re lucky to have him as your dad,” Scorpius said, his voice clipped. Before Albus could respond, he added, “Well, I can’t wait to tell Rose about the Pokémon I punched. I’ll ask my parents about it when I get home, maybe they’ll know what it is.”

“Yeah.” Hot shame bubbled in Albus’ gut, like someone had stuck an entire nest of pissed-off Beedrill into his intestines. “I-”

“She’ll kill us, you know,” Scorpius said. “I hope you’re prepared for that.”

“Angry Rose is manageable.” Scorpius wasn’t letting him apologize. Or talk about his dad anymore. Was he doing that on purpose? “Listen, Scorp, I’m-”

Scorpius held up a hand. “Don’t say anything. You don’t need to.” He threw a lanky leg over his bike and grinned with all of his teeth. His smile always put Albus at ease, no matter the situation. “Bet I’ll beat you home.”

Albus scrambled to swing himself onto his bike. “You rotten--!” 

His best friend’s laughter was carried away by the wind. 

*

After dinner, Albus flicked the switch on his desk lamp. He’d been putting off his homework all day, but he knew if he didn’t get it done tonight, Scorpius and Rose would frown at him tomorrow morning when he was trying to rush through it five minutes before first period. So he unfastened the straps of his backpack and opened it.

And screamed.

He jumped to his feet. On top of his folders and pencils and whatever junk he had in there was a pile of purple gas with eyes. And a mouth. It blinked at him. Albus blinked back.

It stuck out its tongue, but instead of chasing after Albus like before, it nuzzled into his backpack and closed its eyes. “Mom? Dad?” Albus called out, moving to stand on his chair. He wanted to be out of the way for whatever was about to go down. “Come to my room. Quickly. Please.”

He heard his dad fly up the stairs (his steps were distinctive; he took the stairs two at a time with a loud thump) and opened the door. “What’s wrong?”

Albus pointed at his backpack. His dad stared at the contents before running out of the room and back downstairs, presumably to get a Pokémon or his wife. Possibly both. His dad only kept Pokémon in Pokéballs during the day; at night, they were allowed to roam the grounds until bedtime. Then, they slept in their own beds. Usually, his dad never needed them outside of work. Emphasis on “usually.” Today was not a typical day.

In less than thirty seconds, his dad returned with Lighthouse, his Ampharos. Lighthouse was one of the stars of his dad’s team. Though he didn’t look like a formidable fighter right now. The poor thing was rubbing at his eyes, the red orbs in the center of his forehead and on the tip of his tail dimmed. 

“Lighthouse, can you use Thunder Wave for me, please?” He shook his head to clear his sleepy stupor and moved into a battle stance, throwing his arms and legs wide, his tail thrashing. He opened his mouth and sent a concentrated wave of electricity to Albus’ backpack. Albus winced; he wasn’t too sure his laptop would survive getting fried like that. There was a cry of alarm before the other Pokémon went silent.

“Thanks.” His dad leaned over and reached into the backpack, pulling out the Pokémon with one hand. Its body was totally frozen except for its eyes, which darted about, flicking from face to face. With his free hand, he reached for his belt to grab his Pokédex. He flipped it open with a thumb.

“Hello, Harry Potter! Identifying a Pokémon?” His dad pressed a button. The machine began to vibrate, a blue light blinking indicating it was recording footage. After a moment, the light became steady. “Gastly!” It chirped. “Born from gases, anyone would faint if engulfed by its gaseous body, which contains poison.” His dad gently placed the Gastly on the ground. It narrowed its eyes. “This Gastly is a level five male. Would you like further information?”

“Not right now. But thank you.”

The Pokédex made a cheerful beeping noise. It declared “Goodnight, Harry Potter!” before snapping shut.

His dad looked at him, his wrinkled forehead more pronounced with his raised eyebrows. He looked almost as exhausted as Lighthouse. “Well. I’m going to go… talk to your mother. About what to do. It- he should be fine where he is.”

His dad shut the door gingerly. Albus wrinkled his nose at the Gastly. The Gastly crossed his eyes to make a silly expression. Thankfully, he was paralyzed, but that didn’t mean Albus trusted him.

His door flew open and crashed into the wall. Albus shouted without meaning to. In the doorway was Lily Luna, her hair in a tall, messy bun. She was wearing a bright pink gown adorned with a Milktank. She held out a hand, an impossibly wide smirk on her face.

“I’ll be taking that Pokémon, if you don’t mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> i found two chapters of this this in my drafts from about eight months ago. i keep trying to detach myself from it but i want to finish. it's nowhere near complete and i can't promise that it will ever be finished, but i lose my mind if a fic is left incomplete on ao3, so. we'll see what happens.


End file.
